We
by TheMidnightOil
Summary: Simply a series of short stories focusing mainly on the group from the 11th. Sometimes serious, sometimes silly and eternally irreverent, they are a singular group of shinigami.
1. Eat

_This is my first attempt at Bleach fanfiction. I hope that people will like it._

_Basically, this will be a series of drabbles and ficlets focusing on my personal favorite group in bleach: the 11th division. I don't have a set number that I plan to achieve or a set list of prompts that I intend to follow, but I do have a couple of lists at hand just in case I'm really hard up for a topic. We'll see how far this takes me._

_Disclaimer: Somehow I'm sure that everyone's figured this out already, but I don't own Bleach or any associated characters._

* * *

**Eat**

"Eat yer goddamn food!" he roared furiously, glaring at Yachiru as she sat with her nose turned up at the food in front of her. Obviously it did not satisfy some secret criteria for pleasing her.

"No!"

"Eat it!"

"No!"

This exchange had been going on for the past fifteen minutes, and Kenpachi was becoming sorely fed up with the girl's rejection of the food he'd provided. He growled in irritation, looking down at the peaches that sat between them. It wasn't the sort of thing that they usually ate, but for the past few days, he'd had little luck in catching any food for them. Today had been the first day that he'd actually failed to get anything at all, and it had seemed like a lucky break when he'd found the tree with a few peaches still hanging onto its branches. Unfortunately, the girl wasn't having anything to do with the fuzzy fruits.

"Eat it!" He'd expected to encounter some resistance, but he hadn't thought she'd outright refuse.

"No!"

"Dammit! Eat!"

"No!" she shrieked, emphasizing her statement by throwing one of the peaches at him.

The fruit hit him, splitting open and splattering his face with fruit pulp and juice. Whatever last, tiny shred of patience he'd been holding onto vanished at that moment. "Fine! Don't eat!" he shouted, wiping his face and wondering if it wasn't too late for him to leave her behind. He never would, of course, but these were the moments where he almost began to think that he might've been better off without her. "See if I give a damn!"

He'd had enough of this. He wanted to kill something or at least severely maim it. Suddenly rising to his feet and turning away from the cause of his latest murderous urge, he stomped off into the woods until he could no longer see her. He needed to be away from the child for a little bit.

Yachiru stared wide-eyed at his retreating back, seeming too stunned to follow. It was the first time he had ever yelled at her like that, and then he'd just left. "Ken-chan?"

There was no response, and he did not reappear.

Had he really left?

The thought terrified her, and she shouted for him again, sounding distinctly distressed by his absence, but he still did not return. "K-Ken…KEN-CHAAAAN!" wailed the girl as tears began streaming down her cheeks. She became so caught up in her crying that she didn't notice the heavy footsteps approaching.

Suddenly something fuzzy and sweet was stuck in her mouth, halting her screams immediately. With a muffled sound of surprise, her eyes snapped open, and she saw Kenpachi kneeling in front of her, holding a peach with a small section cut out of it. His expression was thoroughly unapologetic, but the anger from earlier was noticeably absent as well. "Eat yer damn food."

With a teary-eyed sniff, she ate the piece of peach that he'd stuck in her mouth. She was surprised; it tasted good. "Ken-chan…"

"Che. Stop cryin'," he rumbled, holding out another piece to her. She took it from him and ate it without argument, still sniffling a little from her earlier tears. "I ain't leavin'."

* * *

_This is sort of, semi, loosely based on my experiences taking care of my then two year old cousin a couple years ago. There were a couple times where he really pissed me off, and I just had to leave the room for a little bit to cool down. I imagine that Kenpachi probably had a few of those experiences as well._


	2. Contest

_I guess I can technically call this a series now that I've got my second piece done.

* * *

_

**Contest**

Looking out at the group of hollows in front of him, Kenpachi allowed a smile to spread slowly across his face. It had been a while since he'd been able to have some fun, and he intended to get as much enjoyment out of this pack as he could.

While most people would have preferred a more even fight, he was of the opinion that it was more fun to fight when the odds were not in his favor. It always made the following victory that much more satisfying, and that success often left those who hadn't believed him capable of winning in slack-jawed astonishment. That was satisfying too.

"Hey!" shouted a familiar voice from nowhere.

The grin faded as he suddenly found a familiar pair of shinigami standing directly between him and the hollows. It was a move that was on the verge of being suicidal. One of them had a bald head that bore the faintest remnants of a child's drawing on it, and the other had dark, bobbed hair that was shinier than any man's ever should be. "What the hell're you idiots doin' here?" he asked despite already knowing what the answer would be. Even though their backs were to him, he could almost see their smiles—one was serenely smug while the other was shamelessly eager. It was quite obvious what they were here for.

"You're being very greedy, taicho," said Yumichika in a lightly scolding tone as he glanced over his shoulder. He'd been right about the smile. "It's not at all beautiful."

The one visible eye rolled in annoyance. He considered telling him exactly where he could stick all of that beauty he was always spouting, but he seemed to decide that it wasn't worth the trouble.

"Yeah," agreed Ikkaku enthusiastically, keeping his gaze trained on the hollows in front of them. He suddenly seemed to realize the second part of what his friend had said because he quickly added, "Except for that beauty crap. No one else cares about that, but you should share more. It's not fair for you to get to have all the fun."

They always seemed to do this when he was fighting more than one enemy, but somehow, he never saw them until after they'd already planted themselves directly in his way. He did wonder how they managed it, but he had no intention of asking. "Why the hell should I? This is my fight."

"Come now, taicho. Surely you could spare a couple for us to have fun with." The man's half-lidded smile was so blatantly devious that they all knew he was going to find a way to weasel his way into this fight whether he was wanted or not.

Kenpachi frowned and grunted noncommittally. He didn't want to waste time on this argument when the hollows were out there waiting for him to kill them, but neither did he want to give in and let them just have their way. It was too weak of a thing for him to allow. Where had they gotten the idea that they could intrude on his fights whenever the felt like it anyway? He would need to break them of that habit. They were starting to get spoiled.

"A contest then!" exclaimed Ikkaku suddenly.

"What?"

"We'll have a contest to see who can kill the most hollows. That should make it more fun for everyone."

"Oh, yes! Let's do that," said Yumichika, clapping his hands together and happily bouncing up and down a few times.

Not for the first time, Kenpachi wondered what sort sin he must have committed to deserve a subordinate like Yumichika, but the man had proven himself useful on enough occasions that he let most of the odd behavior pass without comment. "A contest, eh?" he mused, pointedly avoiding looking at the practically sparkling man. After another moment of consideration, a decidedly wicked grin spread over his face; his one visible eye glinted dangerously, and the other shinigami eyed each other almost hesitantly. "Alright, but let's make it a bit more interestin' than that."

"How?" asked Ikkaku, sounding intrigued.

"Losers have to help the Fourth with cleanin' the sewers." The smile on Yumichika's face immediately turned into an expression of utmost horror at that. "For one month," he added, very nearly bursting into laughter as the effeminate man almost passed out at the very idea of spending a month steeped in the sewers of the Seireitei.

Ikkaku was cackling madly, too amused by the other man's obvious distress for his own good. He quickly agreed to the terms of the bet.

Trying to think of a way out of his current predicament, Yumichika stuttered incoherently (but beautifully) for a few moments before finally managing to latch onto an actual thought. "But someone will need to keep score." He did not notice his taicho's widening grin. "We won't be able to tell who wins if no one keeps score, so someone will have to stay back to—"

"I'll do it!" chirped Yachiru as she suddenly popped up from behind Kenpachi's shoulder. "I'll keep score so you and Baldy can have fun playing with Ken-chan."

"Ah…How thoughtful of you, fukutaicho," he said in a light and sincerely insincere tone, wearing an expression that was quite obviously wishing the child a horrific and very ugly death. She seemed oblivious to this, asking Ikkaku if he was okay because his face was red and he was gasping for breath from laughing so much.

"I guess that settles it…unless there're any further objections." He eyed his fifth seat as though daring him to argue. He'd wanted to fight before, and he wasn't going to be let out of it now.

"No," was the sulky response.

"Good. Just remember not to get in my way."

…

Unohana was surprised to see the Eleventh Division captain standing just inside the entrance of the medical building, looking very out of place among the shinigami of her division, who all shied nervously away from the fearsome man. It was a rarity that he would willingly visit here unless he was in need of healing, but she could see no obvious signs of injury that might explain his presence. "What brings you here, Zaraki taicho?" she asked as she approached him, belatedly noticing that his third seat, Madarame, was also present. He was also noticeably lacking any apparent injuries. Now she was becoming curious.

"Got somethin' for ya," he muttered, avoiding meeting her gaze.

She blinked in surprise, her familiar smile faltering for just an instant at the unexpectedness of his response. "Really? What is it?"

Her eyes widened as the large man huffed and pulled a bloody mess out from behind his back that she took a moment to recognize as being Ayasegawa Yumichika—or at least, what was left of him. Strangely, she seemed somehow relieved that this was what he had brought her. "Did you do this?" she asked in a gentle yet accusatory tone.

"I always warned 'em not to get in my way while we're fightin'," he said almost defensively, shifting uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "He decided that he didn't wanna listen and tried ta steal one of my kills. It's his own damn fault for gettin' like that."

"I see," she said as she quickly passed the injured shinigami into the capable hands of her subordinates. "And why would he do something like that?"

"We had a contest," he said as though that should be enough to explain everything.

"A contest?" Apparently it wasn't.

"Yeah…to see who could kill to most hollows. We made a bet." He pulled his gaze down to actually look at the woman's face. Her smile was infuriatingly placid as always.

"Oh?"

"The losers had to help your division with the sewer duties for next month," explained Madarame, shooting a glare at a couple of no name division grunts who'd overheard him and begun giggling. He seemed to have finally realized exactly what he'd agreed to.

Now everything suddenly made much more sense. She understood why Ayasegawa had been willing to risk life and limb by getting in the way of his taicho's fight. "Who won?" The silence that greeted her was answer enough. "Ah. Very well then. I expect to see the two of you bright and early tomorrow morning."

* * *

_You know, this is just one of those things that I could imagine them doing to entertain themselves, which eventually turns into torturing each other. This was one of those where I could've ended either this way or with Yumi kicking and screaming as he's being dragged into the sewers. I opted for this ending because it amused me more. _

_Thanks to Jigoku Tenshi and arrancar125 for reviewing my first chapter. I'm glad you guys liked it, and I hope you enjoy this one too._


	3. Transfer

_Spellchecker must absolutely hate me with writing like this. _

**Transfer**

There had been rumors about the current captain of the eleventh division floating around the Seireitei almost from the very moment he'd first set foot within its walls, and his infamy only seemed to have grown with time. Most of them were frightful myths that painted him as either some sort of monster or demon, but it was an easy enough leap to make when one considered where the man had come from. Of course, the truthfulness of these sometimes seemingly outlandish stories was a topic of much debate among many of the lower ranked and younger shinigami. Some swore that every word was absolute gospel truth, but on the other side, they claimed that it was all fabricated nonsense of the same type as children's fairytales. Renji, personally, hoped that the skeptics had it right, but he feared that the believers might know better.

He had never actually met the man before to know what was fact or fiction, but he had glanced him a few times in passing. It was nearly impossible to ignore the man with his distinctive appearance and crushing reiatsu that had been known to incapacitate lesser men. The first time Renji had experienced that power for himself, he'd been certain that he was going to suffocate from the force of it pressing down on him. It had been terrifying, and he'd thankfully gulped down air once the feeling was past.

Now, he was being transferred into the man's division.

Standing at the entrance to the eleventh division, Renji swallowed nervously under the disdainful gaze of one of its members. "What d'you want?" he asked with a snarl.

"I'm being moved into—"

"Oh, right," said the man suddenly sneering in a very unpleasant way. "You're the one coming in from Aizen's division, right? Taicho told me to be on the lookout for you. He wants you to report directly to his office."

"O-okay…thanks," said Renji uncertainly as he walked through the doors.

The man snorted derisively, looking at him as though he'd just said the stupidest thing in the world, and for all he knew, he might have. Going into a different division was something like being thrown into a new country. Sure, everyone still spoke the same language, but that was about where the similarities ended.

He wandered around the division for a few minutes—earning glares and sneers from all of the men he passed—before coming to the realization that he didn't know where the office he was looking for was located. At first, he'd just decided to go where Aizen's office was located in the fifth division, but he found an open courtyard filled with men sparring, gambling, drinking, and generally carrying on. One or two men cast mildly curious glances in his direction, but they quickly disregarded him and returned to whatever previous activity they'd been engaged in. He supposed it might be a good thing they were ignoring him. It was certainly better than getting endless death glares.

"You look lost," said someone behind him, making Renji jump in surprise. He spun around to find…a person—he couldn't immediately tell whether it was a man or a woman, but eventually he decided to assume male for the time being. "You must be the one that Aizen-taicho had transferred into our division."

"Does everyone know about me…?" he wondered aloud.

The man in front of him chuckled lightly, and Renji started to reconsider his decision about the person's gender. "Taicho's been quite vocal about the recent influx of transfers. It'd be amazing if everyone didn't know, and you're so obvious about it that anyone could have figured it out."

"Vocal?"

"You're looking for Zaraki-taicho's office, correct?" he asked , completely ignoring Renji's own question.

Renji could only nod dumbly. He was still very confused by this man, who didn't seem like he should belong in this division but apparently did. How did he not get beaten up by all of these guys on a regular basis with how frilly and womanly he appeared?

"Just follow me. We'll probably get there before he does," said the man turning and walking off.

"We will?" he asked, following a couple steps behind.

The man glanced over his shoulder and smiled in a way that seemed kind but made Renji feel like he was an idiot. "He's out somewhere with our fukutaicho. She's probably got him running around in circles." The way he said it made it seem as though this was a regular enough occurrence that it was nothing worth being concerned over.

"Oh," he said though he didn't really understand.

The pair walked for a bit longer in silence until they reached the doors that he assumed led into the captain's office. "It seems I was right," said the man as they stopped. "You can just go ahead inside to wait for taicho to get back. There's no telling how long it may take him, so feel free to make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks…" said Renji uncertainly. Again the man smiled in what seemed a pleasant a pleasant enough way, but this time a chill ran down his spine in response.

"Good-bye," said the man with a little a wave as he turned to leave. "I hope that I'll see you again."

His brow furrowed as he watched the other man depart, wondering why he'd said it like that, but he decided against asking. It probably didn't mean anything anyway, and he didn't really want to be subjected to another one of those smiles. They were frightening, and he wondered if maybe that was how such a girly-looking man had managed to survive in a division filled with thugs.

Sliding the office door open a little, he peeked cautiously into the room, fearing what sort of chamber of horrors he was about to step into. He was surprised and almost disappointed when the sight that met his eyes was that of a very ordinary-looking office. It actually looked rather orderly. There were no visible bloodstains or dismembered body parts, and there weren't many places to hide anything like that in the sparsely decorated room.

For a minute he wondered whether this was some kind of joke and he'd been led to the wrong place, but he eventually decided to go ahead inside. No one could blame him for coming to the wrong place when he'd come under someone else's direction. Right?

He stepped gingerly in, as though expecting his footfalls to set off some sort of trap or alarm system. This room looked so benign that he couldn't help but be suspicious. Nothing happened, and he carefully made his way over to one of a pair of chairs sitting in front of a rather large desk.

Sitting down in one of the chairs, he looked around at his surroundings and waited. There wasn't much to look at.

Glancing out of the large windows that provided all of the light in the room, he found himself staring out at the division's training grounds. A large group of men were in the middle of drills that seemed to be supervised by one man whose hairless head gleamed in the sunlight. He watched the men as they went flawlessly through their exercises, moving almost perfectly in unison as the bald man called out commands. Renji wondered if these men could really be the same kind of guys as the ones he'd seen in the courtyard looking slovenly and disorganized. There didn't seem to be any comparison between them.

He watched them until he felt the oppressive, looming force of reiatsu that indicated the approach of the infamous captain. He had to be a monster. The redhead steeled himself for the meeting, trying not to shake or look afraid. He was unsure if he was succeeding or not, but he doubted it.

"See? I told you this was the right way," said the voice of what sounded like a child.

"Ya said the same thing 'bout those thirty-four dead ends ya sent me into," came the grumbled response. "Now go play or somethin'. I got work ta do."

"You mean the new guy, right? He should be here…unless he got lost like you always do."

"It's only 'cause you tell me ta go the wrong way!"

"Don't blame your bad sense of direction on me, Ken-chan." Trying to restrain his laughter, Renji bit his bottom lip so hard that he thought he might bite it off. He couldn't believe he was listening to the feared demon of the eleventh division being scolded by a child.

"You were the one—forget it…Just go," he sighed in exasperation.

"Okay," responded the girl with a giggle. He heard the sound of pair of feet landing on the floor followed by a quick pounding against floorboards as their owner departed. "Have fun, Ken-chan!" A grunt answered her.

The door slid open a moment later, and Renji found himself unable to do anything more than stare at Zaraki Kenpachi as he stood in the doorway that suddenly seemed much too small. He was a massive man, standing near or above seven feet in height and seeming all the larger for the baggy material of his shihakusho, but it wasn't just his height that made him seem so large. It wasn't the way his reiatsu seemed to press down on everything around him either. It was something intangible and indefinable that just made everything else seem so much smaller in comparison.

"You're Abarai, right?" he asked, closing the door behind him and fixing the man with his one visible eye.

"Y-yes, sir…"

Zaraki grunted as he walked over to his desk, clearly unimpressed by the redhead's stuttering response. Taking his seat, he looked at an open file on his desk. For a few minutes there was silence as the man appeared to read whatever papers were in the file, seeming almost to have forgotten about Renji's existence.

"Ya haven't passed out yet."

"What?"

"I got tired of people passin' out on me in the middle of talkin' to 'em, so I let 'em sit for a bit to see if they can handle my reiatsu. Ya ain't worth my time if ya can't do it."

"Oh."

"Still don't mean I'm keepin' ya," he said with that single eye still watching him carefully.

"What?"

He snorted in irritation, closing the file as though it contained something distasteful. Renji noticed that it had his name on it. "I have the right ta reject yer transfer into my division at any time. Just 'cause Aizen sent ya here doesn't mean yer stayin'. My division ain't a place for everyone else to go dumpin' their trash."

"I don't understand."

"Che. Figures ya don't know nothin'," snorted Zaraki, seeming completely unsurprised but still rather irritated by Renji's ignorance. "The only one who sends me worse than Aizen is that blind bastard."

He frowned for a moment, unsure if the man was just purposely not using the ninth division captain's name or if he really didn't remember it. In the end, he decided that it didn't matter since he wasn't going to correct him anyway.

"It's not just those two, but they're the worst about it," he admitted after a minute. "Most all the other division taichos think that bein' the combat division means that I'll take any idiot who can swing a sword."

"You don't?" he wondered, realizing too late that he'd actually spoken.

The force of the man's reiatsu pressing down on him increased dramatically without warning, and Renji suddenly found himself being pressed into the floor by it. He was sure that he was about to die. "Yer either an idiot or ya got guts. Ya better hope I decide it's the second one."

From where he lay on the floor, Renji made a strangled noise like he was trying to say something, but no words came out. He felt as though he was going to be crushed into jelly against the floorboards. It was truly terrifying to think that Zaraki-taicho might be able to kill him without even the smallest bit of effort. This man really was a monster!

"Now, listen and try not ta black out on me," he said, glaring over the edge of his desk at the untidy heap in front of him. His voice was more irritated than truly angry, leaving the redhead with some small hope of actually coming out of this alive. "The eleventh division is the first into battle and the last to pull out. That means we have the highest chance of casualties because we're out there the longest, so I try ta make sure we take as few losses as possible by makin' sure my men are the strongest. We don't stay that way by takin' in every moron that gets sent our way. I don't need some pansy ass little shit bringin' the rest of my men down!"

Renji was certain that he was beginning to fuse with the floor, and he wondered if he might become a permanent fixture if this kept up. "What…what happens to those you don't take?" he managed to growl out as he tried to push himself off of the floor. He wasn't having much success.

"It's yer taicho's decision after that. Yer not my problem anymore once I send ya back. He can either keep ya, send ya to another division, or dismiss ya completely. From what Aizen's written up on ya, I'd bet on the third one bein' most likely," he said in a wholly disinterested tone. It was as though he'd already made the decision to not accept the redhead.

"I can't let that happen…"

Suddenly the pressure of the reiatsu shrank back to its earlier, less suffocating, level, and Renji was instantly up on his hands and knees panting as though he'd just finished heavy exercises. His arms felt a bit wobbly as though he had as well. "Why?" asked Zaraki-taicho, sounding much more interested now. "Why can't you?"

He hesitated, unsure if he could really tell them man. "I…" Zaraki's interest immediately began to wane at the sound of his reluctance, and he knew that he was fast losing his chance. "I must surpass Kuchiki Byakuya-taicho!"

A long moment of silence followed as the captain stared down at him with an unreadable expression on his scarred face, and Renji wondered if he'd ended up ruining his chances completely. "That's a pretty lofty goal," he said as a menacing grin slowly began to spread across his face and a low, rumbling chuckle escaped his throat, making the floorboards vibrate briefly. "Sounds like fun."

Hope rose in his chest at that, and he quickly rose to his feet. "Accept me and let be become strong in your division, Zaraki-taicho. I won't drag the rest of your men down."

"Good. 'Cause yer gonna need to get a helluva lot stronger if ya want to beat Kuchiki." The grin on his face was fierce and predatory, showing off pointed canines that didn't look like they belonged in a human mouth. "Keep in mind that I can still boot yer ass outta here any time if yer not keepin' up."

"Yes, sir," he said much more confidently.

"Welcome to the eleventh division. Now get yer ass outta here before I change my mind!" Renji quickly departed from the office.

The man really was a monster just like all of those rumors said, but maybe that was why he made the perfect captain of the eleventh. A normal man wouldn't have been able to handle the position.

* * *

_I'm not especially pleased with the way this one turned out, so I'm sorry if anyone's disappointed with it. Things have been a bit annoying at school, and it's making writing a bit more difficult. We just got back from Spring Break, and I find out that my roommate decided to take the TV home because "it distracts her too much during the last quarter." It's total bullshit because she's hardly ever in the damn room, and it was a really inconsiderate thing of her to do without at least giving me a head's up before she did it._

_Anyway, thanks to rinda, ADDVengance(Yeah. I took the title from that song, and I have to admit that I like the fourth too.), arrancar125(Well, I feel like I should thank you guys for taking the time to leave a review.), Jigoku Tenshi (I've read some of their stuff, and really I thank you for that kind of a compliment. Yes, I was inspired by 119. I adore the flashback part of that episode.), and Afrieal for reviewing._


	4. Physical

_I promise that I'm not slacking off on these. The story that I'd decided to work on next was just being very difficult and not coming out right. It's still not where I want it to be, and I'm getting really frustrated with it._

_This piece just sort of appeared, and I wrote it in one sitting last night._

* * *

**Physical**

He frowned at the woman who stood directly in his path, wearing the white coat that marked her as a fellow captain. On her face was a gentle smile that he found oddly unsettling. It was not an expression that he was used to seeing directed at him, and he was immediately wary of it and the woman who wore it. "Who're you?" he asked in a low rumble.

"I am Unohana Retsu, taicho of the fourth division," she said in a voice that was just as discomfortingly gentle as her smile. "I have come to collect you, Zaraki-taicho."

"Collect me?" he asked, quirking one brow in mild curiosity.

She gave a small nod of her head. "Yes, as a new member of the Gotei 13 and the new taicho of the eleventh division, you must be given a full physical."

"What's that got ta do with you? Ain't that my business?"

"My division specializes in the medical care of all the other division members. Your health is my business as well."

He vaguely wondered why the captain of the division had bothered to come all the way out here to retrieve him herself. It seemed like a simple enough task that she could have passed off to a subordinate, and it really wouldn't have mattered if he'd been facing a no name grunt instead of the captain. His answer would've been the same either way. "I ain't got time for that shit," he rumbled, brushing past her with an annoyed grunt.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and he paused, looking over his shoulder at the woman who'd grabbed a hold of him. "I'm afraid that I must insist, Zaraki-taicho," she said, her smile and genial tone remaining unchanged. "It is mandatory."

"I don't care. I ain't goin'," he grunted as he jerked his sleeve from her grasp and walked away.

Again the hand shot out and caught him. He stopped again with an irritated growl, but he didn't even bother to glance back at her this time. "This is not optional. You are going to have a physical." There was an almost imperceptible edge to her voice that he wasn't even sure he'd actually heard. Imagined or not, it piqued his interest.

Turning around to face the woman, he sneered down at her and said, "Make me."

With cold, ruthless efficiency and precision the woman struck a few strategic pressure points, and the massive man suddenly collapsed onto the ground. "I told you, Zaraki-taicho, your physical is not optional," said Unohana still wearing that infuriatingly serene smile.

As he was dragged to the fourth division, Kenpachi couldn't decide whether he was terrified or turned on.

* * *

_This doesn't have to been seen as actual KenUno if you don't want it. I like the pairing, so it is inevitably going to leak into my writing a bit._

_Thanks to ADDVengance, arrancar125, Jigoku Tenshi (Yeah. It seems like the eleventh is only second to the fifth in that respect, and most of that was probably intentionally set up by Aizen.), Afrieal (Renji was the one that I didn't think I'd really gotten right. I like to hope that he's not so much out of character as he's just a bit off.), and rinda for reviewing. I hope you guys get a laugh from this one._


	5. Death

_Well, this one is a big departure from my previous pieces. Don't expect a lot of laughs on this one, but I still hope you find it a good read._

* * *

**Death**

Everyone comes to Soul Society one way or another.

Iba had died by drowning.

He'd grown up near the river and had spent much of his youth shirking his chores so that he could go sit on the riverbank to watch the boats as they sailed up and down it. It had irritated his father and amused his mother. It had angered his two brothers, who would have to do all of his work whenever he managed to slip away. Somehow he could always manage to find a way, but they were never able to do the same.

It had been an accident. They'd just been angry with him and tired of putting up with his chores as well as their own.

They'd pushed him, and he'd slipped, falling down the steep bank and into the murky water. His head had smacked into some rocks hidden beneath the surface, and he'd lost consciousness immediately.

Renji had died trying to impress the big boys.

Being the only male of seven children, he'd always felt as though he had to prove that he wasn't weak from living around so many women. The older boys in the village had known this, and they would constantly challenge him just to see how far he was willing to go to prove his toughness. He'd already broken his arm twice before, but it wasn't quite enough for them.

The tall tree on the edge of the village had been a good target. A few of the boys had declared a contest to see who could climb the highest, and they'd dragged Renji along.

Once a couple of boys had gone up and come back down safely, he had declared that he wanted to give it a try. Being smaller and weighing less than the older boys, he was certain that he could climb higher into the tree where the branches wouldn't hold them.

He'd been right. He managed to climb higher than any of them had, but on his way down, he lost his footing and fell. The ground had quickly risen up to meet him, and his head had cracked open when he had landed.

Yumichika had died from disease.

It had started with a small ache and a slight fever that he and everyone else had decided was nothing to be concerned about. There was too much to be done for him to take off ill. Besides, he'd had worse than this before.

The doctor had solemnly told his father and mother that there was no cure.

His decline had not been a fast one. Slowly the disease had consumed his body, reducing him to an unsightly husk of his former self. His skin had grown papery and had taken on a sickly yellow color, and his strength had slowly diminished until he could not rise from bed on his own. He'd hated how much of a burden he'd become to his family. At the end, he hadn't even been able to lift his head, and he'd been almost relieved to die.

Death had freed him from the haggard prison that his earthly body had become, and once in Soul society, he'd sworn that such an ugly thing would never happen to him. The next time he died, it would be glorious and beautiful, but he didn't plan on doing it again any time soon.

Ikkaku should have died on the battlefield.

It had been a wonderful battle, and he had fought well. Many men had fallen beneath his blade before one of theirs had finally struck him down. He could be satisfied with a death like this. It was an honorable way to die. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes and waited for death to accept him.

He opened them again to find himself in some backwoods hospital with his injuries crudely bandaged and very painful. Someone had found him still alive and decided to save him. He'd been furious to be denied such a proud, satisfied death, and he'd made sure that everyone else had known it.

Death came for him anyway, but it had not been how he'd wanted it. His wounds had become infected, and he died in the midst of a fever-induced delirium, screaming at enemies that only he could see.

Yachiru didn't remember how she had died.

If she tried hard enough, she could faintly remember a woman screaming, but she didn't bother trying. None of that mattered to her.

For her, life had begun when she'd met Ken-chan and been given her name. Everything else before that day might as well not have existed for all it meant to her. She didn't need to remember how she'd died.

Kenpachi preferred other people's theories about how he'd died.

They made up grand stories about how he'd been some great warlord or a notorious bandit leader, and they would try to guess at how many men he'd taken down before being killed himself. His favorite version was the one where he'd taken on an entire army single-handedly, and it hadn't been until after every last enemy had been slain that he'd allowed himself to succumb to his injuries. It was a much better story than the real one.

He had died young, alone and nameless, abandoned by the woman who'd borne him.

The only clear memory he had of her was her back as he watched her walking away. For some reason he hadn't been able to follow after her even though he'd been trying desperately. He couldn't remember what her face had looked like, but every detail of that retreating back was forever burned into his memory.

Everyone comes to Soul Society one way or another, but no one really likes to talk about it.

* * *

_I'm really trying to remember where the idea for this fic came from, but I'm not having any luck. I remember that I was doing something else when I got the idea, and I wrote it down, figuring I'd come back to it later on. Of course, it decided that it wanted to be written _now_. I am a slave to my writing…_

_Thanks to arrancar125 (Well, I guess it's got to be someone's kink.), rinda, and ADDVengance for reviewing._


	6. Play

_I'm back! My absence was a combination of mostly writer's block with a little bit of getting distracted by other things. The biggest distraction for me was the TV Tropes website. It's so much fun to go and read all that stuff. Try it out. Go to and type Bleach (or something else you're a fan of) into the search engine at the top of the page._

* * *

**Play**

"Play with me."

"No."

"Play with me."

"Why don't you go bother Taicho? I'm busy—doin' your paperwork!"

"Ken-chan's taking a nap. Do _you_ want me to go wake him up?"

"…No."

"Play with me, Baldy! The paperwork can wait."

"Says you."

"Says Ken-chan too. He says there's always time for work later. Fun should come first."

Which would explain why we're always so far behind when it comes ta paperwork. Do you know how old some of these reports are?"

"No. Why do you care anyway? If they've sat there for that long, what difference will it make if you put them off for just a little bit longer? Play with me! Play with me!"

"Don't kick! You're gonna knock over the paper—ack!"

"Avalanche! Does it look like snow under all of that paper?"

"…"

"Baldy?"

"…"

"Are you alive under there, Pachinko Head?"

"No."

"Liar! If you were really dead, you wouldn't have said anything."

"Fukutaicho, if I play with for an hour, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day so that I can get work done?"

"Hmm…two hours."

"An hour and a half."

"Four hours!"

"What happened ta three?"

"Nothing. I just skipped it, and I'll keep skipping to bigger numbers."

"…Two hours?"

"Okay!"

"Fine. It's a deal."

"Yay! Let's have fun!"

"What's goin' on here?"

"Ken-chan! You finished your nap!"

"Yeah. What's with all the papers? Ya been tryin' to do yer own paperwork again? I told ya that both the old man and the central offices didn't want ya fillin' out any more reports. Said they couldn't understand yer writin' fer all the drawin' ya put over it or some shit."

"No, Ken-chan. Baldy was doing it."

"Where is he? He left the place a mess."

"I'm under here, Taicho."

"What're ya doin' under all those papers?"

"They fell on me."

"Well, clean 'em up."

"But I—"

"Yeah, Cue ball! Clean up your mess."

"You little—"

"Che. I was gonna tell ya to run the latest batch of recruits through some drills, but ya ain't leavin' this mess fer me. C'mon, Yachiru. I guess I'll do the job."

"Taicho, wait—"

"Okay! Let's go whip those new recruits into shape, Ken-chan!"

"Yer gonna go tell Unohana what we're doin'."

"I like that job! Braid-chan has good candy, Ken-chan!"

"Whatever. Make sure this mess is all cleaned up by the time I get back, Ikkaku."

"Bye, Baldy! I'll be back for those two hours of playtime you promised me tomorrow. We'll have lots of fun. Wait up, Ken-chan!"

"But…I didn't…fuck!"

* * *

_This was mostly an experiment to see if I could write a story using only dialogue. I think it manages to stay pretty clear as to who is speaking, and I like to think that it's kind of amusing too. Although, yes, I do feel a bit sorry for Ikkaku by the end of it all._

_Thanks to arrancar125 (Kenpachi's death seemed to be a favorite among reviewers. I felt sad for it too, and my mind has since concocted an entire separate story around why he was abandoned. I don't plan to write that one though.), rinda, Sparta15 (I didn't want any two people to die in the same way, but I also tried to keep aspects of the personalities we know from the show. I think that's most evident with the bits on Ikkaku and Yumichika.), KibaCanLickMe, and A.D.D.Vengeance (Yes, we are slaves. I've read a couple with similar ideas too. I never read the one you mentioned though. It sounds interesting.) for reviewing. You guys really help to encourage me to continue._


	7. Captain

_I noticed that the web address for the site I was trying to plug didn't go through last time, so I'll try it again. The site is tvtropes .org (minus the space, of course). Check it out. Laugh at the geekiness of it all, and maybe contribute a thing or two. I have._

**

* * *

**

Captain

There had been some sort of heavy looming presence hanging in the air since that morning, growing slowly closer all throughout the day. It was giving him a headache, and it was disrupting the usual activity of his division. Everyone—even the most spiritually insensitive among his men—had been complaining about the oppressive feeling in the atmosphere, trying to use it as an excuse to get out of doing their work, no doubt. It was irritating.

"Taicho!" exclaimed his fourth seated officer, bursting into his office without even bothering to knock first.

"What is it?" he asked with an exasperated sigh as he looked down at the large inkblot in the middle of the report he'd been writing.

"There…there is a man here to see you, sir."

"Well, send him in," he said dismissively, wondering if he might be able to salvage the report.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think you'll want to take this meeting in your office. He's here to challenge you to a fight."

The captain stopped glowering at the spot of ink on his paperwork and regarded the fourth seat with an expression of mild disbelief. It was not unheard of for a captain to have to defend his position against a challenger, but it was an extremely rare event. It was even rarer that someone would choose the captain of the eleventh division for their challenge. Few people were quite suicidal enough to challenge the Kenpachi.

"I suppose we should get this over with as quickly as possible," he said after a moment, rising from his seat and grabbing his zanpakuto.

"Right," said the other man as he allowed his captain to take the lead as they exited the office.

"Am I to assume that this man is the source of that reiatsu that everyone has been complaining about all day?"

The fourth seat started to nod but quickly stopped as he realized that the captain was not looking at him to see it. "Yes, Taicho. He's waiting in the main courtyard just inside of the front gate."

"He certainly took his time getting here."

"It seems that he got lost a number of times on his way here."

"Lost?"

"Yes…apparently he's been wandering around the Seireitei all day with no idea of where he's been going and only found his way here by accident."

This was beginning to sound like some sort of horrible joke. How could he be expected to take a challenger like this seriously? "Have enough people gathered?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

"Not yet."

"Gather the rest of the division then. Let's at least make this an official match."

"Yes, Taicho," he said before using shunpo to quickly vanish from sight.

…

He frowned in mild disapproval at the large man standing in the center of the growing ring of eleventh division shinigami. This was not the sort of opponent he'd expected to meet.

The man was tall, towering at least head and shoulders above everyone else, looking half-wild as he stood in worn, ragged clothing that he seemed to have roughly fashioned for himself. A long, thin scar ran down the left side of his face from hairline to jaw, cutting over a still functioning eye. It, along with its unscarred mate, stared out at the assembled crowd through a long mess of dark brown hair, focusing intently on the man in the white haori as he stepped out of the crowd.

"Are you here to challenge me?" asked the captain calmly as he took a few steps further into the large circle. He frowned as he noticed a small, pink-haired child standing at the edge of the crowd, beaming up at the large man, but he quickly returned his full attention to the stranger. The child was none of his concern and would be sent away once all of this was over with.

"Depends," he answered in a rough, gravelly voice. "Are you the Kenpachi?"

"I am."

A wolfish grin spread suddenly across the man's face, showing off unusually pointed canine teeth. "Guess I am then," he said, drawing his sword from the sheath on his back. The long blade that he pulled out had a jagged, chipped edge that looked as though it would be completely useless as a weapon, and a few of the gathered shinigami smirked and quietly chuckled at the stranger for daring to challenge their captain with such a battered sword. Whoever this man was, he was clearly not well in the head.

"Why do you wish to challenge me?"

"Have ta."

That answer had been far less informative than he'd been hoping for, but the captain supposed that he shouldn't have been too surprised by its brevity. This man certainly looked like someone who preferred actions to words. "Why do you feel that you must fight me?" he asked, hoping to coax out a more satisfying response.

"Che," he snorted in annoyance. "We were gonna have to meet sooner or later. Can't be two people callin' themselves the strongest."

A low murmur rose from the crowd at that statement. "Ah," said the captain in sudden comprehension. "I've heard of you. You are the man from one of the outer districts of the Rukongai who's taken to calling himself 'Kenpachi'. I had hoped that we would eventually meet."

"So ya can put me in my place, right?" he asked with a sneer.

"As a captain of the Gotei 13, I am obligated to accept any challenge to my position regardless of any personal interest I may or may not have in defeating you."

The man snorted derisively in response. "Whatever. I don't care so long as yer willin' to fight me."

The captain was torn between indignation and amusement at the massive man's behavior. It was absolutely impossible for him to take the brainless gorilla's challenge seriously. It was simply too absurd. "Don't worry. We will fight, but first we must wait until the required number of spectators have arrived to be witnesses."

Tawny eyes scanned the crowd with a distinct look of disinterest in them. "They ain't gonna try to jump in if things start to go bad for ya, are they?"

Low laughter sprang up within the crowd. "No, they won't interfere."

"Good. 'Cause if they tried to stop me, I'd cut 'em down along with ya." More laughter suddenly bubbled up from the crowd of shinigami, but the large man paid it no attention. The little girl looked around, frowning in confusion as what everyone was laughing at.

From across the circle, the captain saw his fourth seat motioning at him. He nodded his head and calmly drew his zanpakuto, idly wondering how much of his time this fight was going to waste. "We can begin."

"'Bout time. Make sure ya don't hold back; I won't." The laughter increased again.

Swords met with a loud ringing of steel against steel as the two men clashed, and the laughter very quickly died, replaced by a solitary cheer: "Go Ken-chan!"

_

* * *

_

I've been very limited on my Internet access for the past few weeks. Otherwise, I probably would have gotten this chapter up sooner. Sorry for the wait guys.

_Thanks to KibaCanLickMe (Yes, poor Ikkaku. He really got unlucky in that last chapter.), ADDVengance (I really try to write all of them with a distinctive voice. I'm glad you think that came through.), __Goddess of the Crescent Moon, rinda (Go ahead and try it out. It's fun to challenge yourself as a writer.), arrancar125 (I don't think he's being a softy so much as he's just figuring that the person in the center of the mess must be the person responsible for the mess.) and lazyguy90 for reviewing. You guys rock!_


	8. Thunderstorm

_Hello again everyone. I'm sorry I've been gone for…seven months?! Wow…it was longer than I realized._

_Things kind of got away from me last semester. Actually, they really got away from me and I had a sort of minor emotional/psychological breakdown. There was just a lot going on with a class load that was too much for me, health problems that had me vomiting and in near constant pain, and stress from money problems. The fact that the doctors couldn't find anything medically wrong with me didn't help matters either._

* * *

**Thunderstorm**

There was a familiar heaviness in the air.

It made him pause for a moment, and looking up, Kenpachi noticed for the first time the large mass of dark clods that had almost completely covered the blue expanse overhead. They were a rather ominous shade of almost purple that threatened more than promised rain. A storm was coming to the Seireitei.

He grunt as though in disappointment, reluctantly taking his hand away from the handle of his zanpakuto—much to the relief of the men who'd been on the verge of facing the nameless blade.

"Don't make those stupid relieved faces!" he roared suddenly unsheathing his sword and leveling it at them, the tip barely an inch away from the end of the nearest man's nose. The single visible eye pinned them to the ground, looking down at them in obvious disapproval. "All yer doin' is showin' the other guy that ya were afraid of him when ya do shit like that. I don't care how scared ya are; don't show it! Ya hear me?"

"Yes, Zaraki-taicho!" shouted the men in chorus.

"Good." A low rumble of distant thunder seemed to ass a certain level of menace to the otherwise benign-sounding word. Slowly he replaced his sword in its scabbard, keeping his eye on the men, who appeared to be waiting for something else to happen, but at least they were trying to keep their faces straight.

He snorted, crossing his arms within the folds of his shihakusho. "Drills're over for today, but don't think yer gettin' off free. Tomorrow you lot are gonna make up for it by doin' a double round of drills with Yumichika."

A collective groan rose from the group, but they quickly cut off into silence under a sharp glare from their captain. It would only get worse if they kept it up.

There was another rumble of thunder, louder this time. It was quickly followed up by the high-pitched squeal of "Keeeen-chaaaan!"

Coming seemingly out of nowhere, a pink and black blur sped towards him, steamrolling anyone who was unfortunate enough to get in the way. It slammed into his back with a dull thud and latched onto his shoulder with practiced expertise, materializing into the familiar figure of his vice-captain. He almost seemed to not have noticed it.

"Brat," he grunted in greeting, glancing over at the girl despite the fact that she was on his right side. Certainly he couldn't see her through the eye patch. Could he?

Large, brown eyes stared up at him, silently pleading.

Looking back at the men, he huffed and said, "What the hell are you still doin' here? I said we're done. Yer dismissed!" With a grunt that sounded vaguely irritated, he turned and quickly departed.

…

A jagged streak of lightning flickered in the cloud-darkened sky, looking sharp and dangerous as it momentarily cast the world in harsh shadows. It was followed a few seconds by a loud crash of thunder that seemed to make the ground tremble.

Yachiru shrieked from where she stood at the edge of the porch, leaning out slightly to get a better view and wearing a broad grin on her face. "That was a big one!" she chirped happily, keeping her eyes glued to the sky, waiting for the next bright flash of lightning.

He grunted in response, taking a swig of sake as he too watched the stormy sky, although, he was seated farther back from the edge.

It had become something of a tradition for them during their time living out in the Rukongai to sit and watch thunderstorms together. At first, they'd only ended up doing so because there hadn't been much else they could do.

Another flash lit the sky. There was no accompanying sound of thunder this time, but that didn't seem to bother the pink-haired girl. She'd always preferred the lights to the noise anyway.

Of course, the first storm they'd spent together had been a thoroughly miserable experience for the both of them. They'd been soaked through and very cold before Kenpachi had managed to find an even halfway decent place for them to take refuge from the rain, and frightened by the loud noise of the thunder on top of it all, Yachiru had inconsolable throughout the whole thing. She'd screamed and cried, completely ignoring the man's rather awkward attempts at trying to calm her. Eventually he'd given up on it, deciding that she that she could just keep on wailing if she really wanted to.

When the storm had finally passed and her cries had stopped, he had thought that he must've gone deaf because of how bizarrely quiet it had suddenly seemed. He still wasn't entirely certain that he hadn't suffered at least some loss.

That was the way it had gone for a while, but at some point she'd begun to stop fearing the thunder. Thankfully her crying had left along with it. She'd begun watching the lights in the sky, letting out happy, fascinated squeals that had still made his ears ring somewhat but were a vast improvement over the screaming. And because the rain always made her cold, Kenpachi would hold her in his arms—grumbling all the while but never denying what she seemed to regard as a special treat.

She liked it, and though he would never admit to such a thing, he did too. There was something strangely peaceful to them in sitting under whatever shelter Kenpachi had managed to find for them, watching the bright flashes overhead and feeling the ground tremble beneath.

There was another bolt of lightning shooting down from the sky, and another angry crash of thunder following right behind. Yachiru spun around with an excited little scream and run to Kenpachi, scrambling into his lap as though she was actually frightened, but the broad grin spread across her face gave the act away. "Yer wet," he commented as she settled into a comfortable position.

"I'm cold, Ken-chan."

"That's what ya get for standin' out there where the rain'll hit ya," he grumbled, but he quickly drained the rest of his sake and set the dish aside. With a huff and suitably irritated grunt, he draped his arms around the girl, the wide sleeves of his shihakusho covering her like a blanket.

"But I can see the lightning better from there," she said looking up at him, bottom lip sticking out in a familiar point.

A low rumble that might've been something like a groan if it had come from anyone else rose from his chest. "Ya can see it fine from here too, can't ya?"

It was an old exchange between them. The words would vary from time to time, but the meaning never changed.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a sharp crack of thunder. Yachiru giggled, settling a bit more comfortably into her seat. "Yeah. Here's good too."

* * *

_Well, this turned out a tad fluffier than I expected. Oh well. It's still pretty good, I guess._

_Thank you to rinda, Lazy Bastard (I do intend to put Renji into more one shots. I've got a couple ideas for him.), roguegirl9929 (Yes, the strange dynamic between them is what I enjoy about them the most), Solo Loco Ellingson-Rose, Sakura LucyLi (It seemed like a plausible way for them to meet. Now, if Kubo ever decides to give us that particular backstory, I'll probably be proven totally wrong.), and SithKnight-Galen (I'm just writing these for my personal fun. I have no word count or time limit goals. As for future stories, I have a few in mind for Yachiru and her antics, but I don't really have any intentions to write stories focusing on Iba or Renji after they've left the division. They'll still show up of course, but I have no plans for that. Of course, plans can change.) for reviewing. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get to you guys._


	9. Unlucky

_Ha. Check me out. I'm updating again._

_Okay. This story was based on a comic that I saw by Linake on Deviant Art. It's not a straight translation of the comic. It has a bit of a build-up along with some extra added on to the end. Honestly, this sort of thing isn't something I'd think up on my own. I'm not sure why. It's just not._

_I didn't realize it, but it's been just over a year since I started this series. How sad that it doesn't have any more pieces than this, but at least it's not dead._

**Unlucky**

Sometimes it was hard to be in the eleventh division.

It wasn't the things like the harsh training regimen or the frequently brutal sparring matches that made many of the members regular visitors to the fourth division. Those were things he could handle—things he rather enjoyed even. As far as he was concerned, you didn't belong in this division if you couldn't take a beating and drag your ass back for more.

That wasn't what made it hard.

Running down the hall at top speed, Ikkaku swore under his breath, cycling through every profanity he knew and starting over from the beginning when he ran out. How could he have let himself oversleep like that? He'd been dealing with this for far too long not to know better. There was just no excuse for it.

Trying to stop abruptly, he failed to overcome his forward momentum and ended up crashing into a door. Quickly he recovered himself and roughly grasped the door to pull it open.

It was locked.

A stream of whispered curses flowed from his mouth as he tried again to open the door, hoping that it was just stuck.

Nope. It was definitely locked.

Barking out one final curse, he sighed resignedly and leaned back against the wall just to the side of the door. There was nothing else that could be done about it. He would have to wait.

No, there were other reasons why life as a man of the eleventh could be difficult at times.

"Yumichika! It's been three hours! Get outta the bathroom!"

Reasons like Ayasegawa Yumichika.

His shouts received no answer, and the bald man glared murderously at the locked door as though hoping to force it open with the power of his mind. The door, however, stayed stubbornly shut, and he swore at his bad luck for not having managed to drag himself out of bed in time to beat the vain man into the bathroom. There was no telling how long it was going to take until he was sufficiently satisfied that he'd maximized his beauty for the day.

These were the times he wished that seated officers were given private washrooms instead of being forced to share them—granted, they had to share them amongst far fewer people than the rank and file of the divisions, but still! It was a luxury that had been allotted to Yachiru because she was the only female officer and almost the only female in the division at all. Zaraki-taicho also had his own bathroom, but that was an allowance given to him because he was the captain. Besides, no one would've been willing to challenge him for it even if he'd been meant to share it. That man was even more of an unholy terror than usual in the mornings.

He began to furiously bang his fists against the door, shouting, "I know you're just in there preenin', you narcissistic asshole!" Still he received no answer from the other side of the door.

With a grunt, he squeezed his legs tightly together, trying to ignore his full bladder. The pressure only seemed to increase, and he shifted in position, crossing his legs and groaning in discomfort.

Leaning against the door, he began scratching desperately at it. "Just give me two minutes," he pleaded in a voice that was noticeably higher pitched than normal. "…Please…?" The door remained silent and unsympathetic to his plight.

If it had been anyone else in there, he would have long ago kicked the door in and done his business, but this was Yumichika. Interrupting the fifth seat in the middle of his daily "beautification" ritual was only slightly less suicidal than getting in the way of Zaraki-taicho and a good fight. The last idiot who'd attempted it still hadn't been released from the infirmary.

Ikkaku whimpered as he hopped from foot to foot in front of the bathroom door, wincing slightly with each uncomfortable bounce.

"Hey, Baldy." He whipped around to see Yachiru standing behind him, wearing a quizzical expression. She looked like she'd just come from the bath, wearing a bathrobe and with her hair wrapped up in a damp towel. "I never saw that dance before. Who're you gonna fight?"

"Hngh…wh-what?" he asked as he continued to hop.

Just as the girl was about to ask again, there was a small click and the door finally opened. "You can have it now," said Yumichika as he stepped out.

With a joyful yelp, the bald man raced into the bathroom, leaping over Yachiru and shoving Yumichika roughly out of his way, slamming and locking it behind himself. "What ugly behavior," sniffed the other man disdainfully, shooting an annoyed look at the door as he pretended to dust himself off.

"Do you know what that dance Baldy was doing just a second ago was?" asked the girl curiously.

"What dance?"

"Right before you came out, he was doing this funny dance that I never saw before. Do you know what it was?"

One slender eyebrow rose in an unreadable expression. "What did it look like?"

"Like this," she said, demonstrating the movements as she'd seen the third seat perform them. "His face was all scrunched up like he was hurt of something too, but I didn't see any blood."

Yumichika nodded his head and smiled knowingly, chuckling lightly. "Yes, I know that one. I call it his Unlucky Dance."

* * *

_Yeah, it's kind of a cheesy punch line, but I thought it was kind of funny. I need to stop writing stories like this or people will start thinking I have it out to torture Ikkaku. I don't. He just seems the most prone to comedic abuse._

_Thank yous go out to KibaCanLickMe (I was doing better…until the pain came back last week. Life can be so unfair. Anyway, yes, fluff is good sometimes. Mostly, I was just a bit surprised how that chapter changed itself. The original version actually had a much more somber ending, but I didn't like it because it seemed so at odds with everything I'd been building up in the story.) and SithKnight-Galen (I wanted to write that story after seeing others that had Yachiru being afraid of thunder, and the idea of her sitting in Kenpachi's lap was too much for me to pass up. I don't really have any plans for Iba, but I do want to use him. He is a part of the group, after all.) for reviewing._

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End file.
